


Buckle (When You Think of Me)

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dom/sub, Gross, Humiliation, Like Piss In The Ass and On The Face, Like Serious Watersports My Guy, M/M, Masochist Steve Harrington, Power Dynamics, The Scoops Uniform, These Are Nasty Boys, Two Idiots Who Know Nothing About BDSM Just Goin For It, Under-negotiated Kink, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Billy doesn’t really ask. He just kind of does stuff. Steve is apparently filthy enough to be cool with it.





	Buckle (When You Think of Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> My askbox is a horny disaster and it's given me awful ideas. Y'all nasty.

Steve and Billy are at a movie. Which is a whole new thing. Not like they showed up at the theater at the same time by accident and Billy just kind of ditched Tommy to follow Steve instead of seeing whatever he’d bought a ticket for. Not like Billy asked what Steve was doing today, and Steve said he was going to see Top Gun with Robin, and Billy _happened to show up_ and sat with them, and almost got into a fight with some body builder dude because he put his feet up on the seats in front of them and refused to move them. Like, Billy actually said, _let’s go see Aliens._ Together. Like, Billy bought them tickets and popcorn and a large soda and they’re sitting in the back row of a mostly empty theater.

If Steve pointed out that it was a date, Billy would call him a faggot. So Steve hasn’t said anything like that. Billy has an arm stretched around Steve’s shoulders. He keeps feeding Steve popcorn and holding the soda in front of his face. Steve’s had too much soda and too much popcorn. His mouth hurts from all the salt. 

You don’t really say no to Billy, though. You can. If it’s important and you’re ready for an argument. But if it’s not a thing you feel strongly about, it’s better to just go along to get along. 

About halfway through the movie, Steve wants to get up. He has to piss. But when he tries to shift away, Billy pulls him into a kiss. It’s distracting. Steve likes kissing Billy. It’s always hot, and wet, and desperate. Like they’re both about to die at any second. It’s an end of the world type kiss.

It still feels dangerous, making out in public. Even if they’re in the dark and ten rows away from anyone who would see them. Steve kind of likes dangerous things. Kind of gets a chub over them. But he still _really_ has to piss. 

So he pulls away. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. He tries to get up.

Billy tugs him down. “Where you going?”

“I gotta pee, dude.”

“Nah.”

“What?”

“Hold it.” 

Billy leans in, licks up the side of Steve’s neck. Nips at his ear. Whispers soft, so nobody else could possibly hear it. “I wanna watch you squirm, baby.”

Fuck.

Steve shivers. He can’t help it. He’s not even sure why this is doing something for him. It’s not sexy. His bladder is over full and it aches. He’s throbbing with how bad he needs relief and… oh.

It’s kind of sexy in the same way it’s sexy when Billy blows him and stops right before he’s about to go over the edge, and just keeps doing that, over and over, until it’s painful and Steve wants to cry, and sometimes does cry, and then Billy finally lets him come and it’s like he’s ascended to a whole other plane of existence.

Steve makes it through the movie. Pressing his thighs together. Definitely squirming. Breathing real heavy through the last ten minutes. He practically runs to the bathroom. Billy follows him. Pushes him into the handicapped stall. He watches Steve piss which is kind of weird. 

But then the second he’s done, Billy has him pinned against the wall–back against the cold tile. Jerking him off with a spit-slick palm. Steve comes in record time, shaking and shuddering the way he does when Billy fucks him too hard. 

Billy pushes him down onto his knees. Smears Steve’s own jizz in his hair when he grabs it. He shoves his cock between Steve’s lips and starts pumping away. Steve relaxes. Lets himself go slack and pliant. Billy likes it sloppy. He likes it when Steve drools all over the place. Steve’s been trained not to gag when Billy’s cock hits the back of his throat. He’s been trained to keep his teeth out of the way, and breathe through his nose, look up at Billy with wet eyes while it’s happening. 

“Such a fucking slut,” Billy murmurs, tugging on Steve’s hair. Steve hopes there’s nobody else in the bathroom. He doesn’t hear anyone else. But he’s not sure. 

Billy comes down his throat and Steve swallows. As a reward, Billy kisses him again and gives Steve a cigarette once they’re outside. 

***

Billy didn’t say where they were going. He just told Steve to get in the car and started driving. Steve is starting to wonder if there’s even an intended destination. They’re far out amidst the cows and cornfields. Billy has the speakers cranked, blasting Iron Maiden into the quiet countryside. 

Steve’s starting to have an idea about what’s happening. Billy gave him a full bottle of water when they first set out. Then a soda when they stopped at the gas station. Billy went inside but told Steve to stay in the car. 

“Can we pull over?” Steve asks. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

“What for?” Billy flicks his cigarette butt out the window. Keeps his eyes straight ahead.

“I gotta take a leak.”

“You should have thought of that before we started driving, baby.”

Billy puts a hand on Steve’s knee and squeezes. He’s smiling the way a blackjack dealer smiles. It’s the sort of way someone smiles when they know the game’s rigged, and they’re always gonna win in the long run.

They pass a gas station. Probably the only gas station for miles. Billy doesn’t stop. Steve looks at it longingly. Even if the bathroom is probably gross, it’s still a bathroom. He’d settle for anywhere right about now.

It only gets worse as they keep going. Needing to piss and knowing you can’t makes it ten times worse. The miles keep ticking by. Steve’s aching. There’s no end to this in sight. Billy isn’t taking them somewhere. Steve’s positive at this point. 

Plan B: Steve reaches for the empty soda bottle.

“Whatcha doing?” Billy asks before Steve’s hands can even drift towards the zipper of his jeans.

“If you’re not gonna pull over, I’m peeing in this bottle.”

“No you aren’t.” He says it like an inarguable fact. No further discussion encouraged. Divergent opinions unwelcome.

“Why?”

“You’ll make a mess all over the car. If you do that, I’m gonna make you lick it up.”

God.

Steve doesn’t even want to think about what sort of crud is on the rubber mat underneath the passenger’s seat. If he spilled even one drop, he has no doubts Billy would follow through on the threat. He’d hold Steve’s head down until he licked. The worst part is that Steve would probably get hard from the utter humiliation of it. He’d probably let Billy toss him in the back seat and fuck him after.

“Billy. Come on. Please just pull over. I really have to. I don’t know if I can make it…”

“Told you what’s gonna happen if you don’t.”

_“Billy.”_

Steve has his thighs pressed together. He keeps shifting around. He can tell Billy’s watching him out the corner of his eye. 

“Please. I don’t wanna lick the floor matt. If I do I’m gonna get sick. Just pull over. Please. You can do whatever you want after–”

“I can already do whatever I want.” Billy flashes his teeth. 

Steve feels hot and dizzy. He’s pulsing with adrenaline, and intense discomfort, and he’s starting to get all floaty. The way he sometimes gets when Billy slaps him around, or chokes him, or holds him down and spanks him until he’s sobbing. It’s a feeling that Steve very much enjoys, but it also kind of scares him. Helpless. That’s what he is. 

He knows he could make this end if he really wanted to. He could say, _Billy, I’m serious. Stop it._ Billy would pull over. He might even wrap Steve in a hug and hold him for a while.

There’s another option though. 

Plan C: Steve starts to tear up. He has a hand pressed between his legs, holding his soft cock through his jeans.

_“Daddy.”_

“Yeah, baby?” Billy’s voice is instantly softer. More sympathetic.

“I have to go. I can’t–I can’t–I’m sorry–”

“You can’t be a big boy, huh? Your little dick can’t hold it.” Billy slows down and pulls off the road. 

He flicks on the child safety locks. So the handle doesn’t open when Steve tugs on it. He has to wait for Billy to get out of the car, walk around, and open it for him. As soon as Steve’s out, Billy pins his hips to the warm metal of the back door. Steve struggles. Billy’s strong.

“Daddy,” Steve whimpers. Panic rising in his chest. He knows what’s happening. He can’t believe it.

“I can’t let you off so easy, baby. You made us stop because you have no self control. So now, you’re gonna piss your pants like the little idiot you are.”

“No–please no.”

“Go ahead. There’s no need to draw this out. Just do it. Wet yourself.” Billy presses his thumbs in, just above Steve’s hips. He presses in where Steve’s already too full and aching.

Steve doesn’t mean to. It’s just too much. That first little spurt of liquid feels too good. God. It’s like he’s coming. He just lets go. Shivers as the warmth runs down his legs. Hits his socks. He’s soaked. It just keeps going and going.

Billy groans. He lets one hand drop. He reaches for his own pants. Unbuttons them. Tugs down the zipper. He gets his cock out and starts stroking it before Steve’s even finished. 

He flips Steve around. Stomach pressed up against the hot glass window. He tugs Steve’s jeans down around his knees. Grabs the outsides of Steve’s thighs and keeps them pressed together. Then he slides between them. Slick with spit and Steve’s piss. He fucks between them, fast and rough. 

“I’m gonna wreck you later,” Billy breathes in Steve’s ear. “Maybe I’ll let you get off if you’re really good for me. Maybe.”

Billy groans and leaves a sticky mess between Steve’s thighs. He at least lets Steve take off the wet clothes. Toss them in a grocery bag. He lets Steve wear his lifeguard shorts on the drive back to Hawkins. Steve’s still all spaced out by the time they get back to his house. He’s dreamy and detached even as Billy finger fucks him until he comes.

***

Billy has a _thing_ for Steve’s work uniform. At first it was just teasing about how dumb Steve looks in his little sailor suit. It quickly became apparent that Billy didn’t just think it looked stupid. Any time Steve gets home still wearing it, and Billy has climbed through his bedroom window to wait for him, the sex is wild.

Well. It’s always wild. But Billy goes out of his way to keep as much of Steve’s uniform on as possible. 

Today, Billy’s waiting for him in the front hallway. He grabs Steve around the waist and drags him into the kitchen. Bends him over the granite countertop. Pulls the shorts down just below Steve’s ass, careful to make sure they’re still covering his dick. Fingers him open with olive oil, just barely enough so that nothing tears when Billy shoves his dick inside. 

“So tight, baby. Fuck.” Billy murmurs as he starts to thrust. One hand on Steve’s head, pressing face against the cool stone. The other on his hip, keeping him in the exact position that Billy wants. 

It burns a little, still. But at least Billy’s not in a particular hurry. He’s going pretty slow. Not too deep. Steve relaxes before too long. Once Billy drags against the right spot enough times, it feels good. Steve wants more. Starts to push back against each motion. 

“Mmm there we go.” Billy laughs. “There’s Daddy’s little cockslut.”

Steve moans. Billy snaps his hips harder. Deeper. 

“Look like such a fuckin’ whore in your little outfit. Walking around in these shorts. Showing off your ass, and your long legs to everybody. Bet you like it. Bet you can feel people staring at you.”

And Steve’s pretty sure nobody besides Billy thinks the Scoops uniform is sexy. He’s been accused of obliviousness, though. Like he thought Robin, who is a raging lesbian, had a crush on him. And he didn’t know Billy was flirting with him for a long time. He just thought Billy was an asshole that disliked him particularly until Billy finally shoved him in a guest room at some party and kissed him. 

So maybe people think the uniform is sexy. Who knows. Or at least. Maybe men do. Steve’s been striking out with girls like crazy. 

“Fuck, baby,” Billy groans. “Feel so good. You want Daddy’s come in you? Or you want it on your face?”

“In me,” Steve mumbles. Face flushed pink. 

“What was that?”

“Come inside me, Daddy.” Steve’s breath hitches. 

He still doesn’t really know what to do about the _Daddy_ stuff. He knows Billy likes it. Steve kind of likes it too. It flusters him, makes him feel so goddamn dirty. It makes him wonder what’s wrong with both of them. 

“Yeah.” Billy all but growls. “Don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

Billy’s breathing heavy. He’s deep in Steve now. Barely pulling out. Just kind of grinding in him. He goes still. Steve can almost feel the warmth of it. Of Billy coming inside him. 

Except he can actually feel it. He can feel something. Hot liquid and there’s way too much of it. 

_“Billy—“_

“Shhhh, shhh, it’s OK baby. Daddy’s just not quite done yet.”

Billy pulls out. There is a _squelch._ Liquid splattering on the tile floor. Oh sweet christ. 

“Did you just piss inside me?” Steve’s voice is an octave higher than normal. He just. He doesn’t. 

“Damn right I did.” 

Billy slams back into him. Fucking him hard and deep. Dragging against the right spot to make Steve’s legs shaky. Steve’s shorts are drenched. The floor is drenched. There must still be some piss inside him, considering how wet it sounds every time Billy thrusts. 

Steve’s not equipped to cope with this situation. 

Maybe he’s past the point where he can even experience a disgust reaction if Billy’s involved. It seems possible that he’s so into Billy, he’d be into anything Billy wants to do to him. That can’t be healthy. 

But also like. Steve loves it when Billy comes on him. He loves being all sloppy and covered in spit after Billy fucks his face. He likes it when Billy uses way too much lube, because Billy’s into the slick noises and talking about Steve’s _dripping wet pussy._ So it kind of makes sense that he’d like Billy pissing in him. 

Steve’s still hard. Billy’s fucking him so good, and Steve’s all hot and dizzy, and he’s gonna come like this because he’s gross. 

“Here we go. You ready, baby?” Billy’s hand slides down Steve’s hip. Underneath his shorts. So tantalizingly close to his cock. 

“Yes.”

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Need it. Need you to come in me, Daddy.”

“Fuck.”

Billy wraps his hand around Steve’s dick. Jerks him off sloppy and distracted. It’s more than enough. Steve whimpers. Clenches around Billy as he creams the already messy inside of his shorts. It’s enough to send Billy over the edge too. He groans and then finally stops moving. 

He pulls out and tugs the shorts back up. Presumably so his jizz will dribble out of Steve and into them. Well. It’s laundry day now if it wasn’t before. Steve really should start wearing boxers or something. Not that it would help the current situation. Just. Jesus. 

“You _have_ to help me clean this up.” Steve says, still bent over the counter. Leaning on it heavy. There’s no way his legs could support him right now. 

“OK. But only if you wear the outfit until it dries.”

“I’m dripping everywhere.”

“So we’ll go sit outside. I wanna smoke anyway.”

Steve wants to argue. He does. But then Billy _picks him up_ and carries him out the sliding glass door. He sets Steve down on a lounge chair. Sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. Billy settles into the chair next to him and starts puffing on a joint. 

“Was that too much?” Billy asks after a few minutes of dazed silence. 

“You’re asking that _now?”_

“I dunno. Got caught up in the moment. You seemed into it.” Billy reaches for Steve’s hand. Twines their fingers together. “You don’t actually have to keep the clothes on. I’ll go clean up after I finish this.”

“OK.” Steve doesn’t move to take his uniform off. He kind of feels like he got run over by a mack truck. Holding Billy’s hand is nice. 

The wet clothes are uncomfortable, but it’s warm enough out that he’s not shivering or anything. Billy finishes the joint. 

“You want help getting undressed?”

Steve can’t bring himself to say it. So he just bites his lip and shakes his head. 

Billy grins at him. Kisses him on the cheek. “Yeah. You fucking like it. God. You’re nasty.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting me hard again, baby.” Billy mouths along his jaw. Down his neck. 

“Go clean.” Steve shoves him away. “Gimme another cigarette.”

Billy does put another cigarette between Steve’s lips before he goes inside. Steve’s hopelessly in love. He hates it. 

***

They don’t go to Billy’s house very often. 

Usually Susan, or Neil, or at least Max is home. It’s not like Max is gonna narc on them for smoking or drinking, but she would definitely be freaked out if she caught them fucking.

The kids don’t hate Billy outright. Especially since he’s been nicer to Max lately. He’ll drive her around without bitching. Sometimes give her a beer or something. He’s stopped complaining about Lucas. 

That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t absolutely lose their shit if they found out that Steve was queer and Billy Hargrove, of all people, is the dick he’s chosen to get on. Like. That’s more than anyone should be expected to process, especially a bunch of thirteen year olds. 

Tonight, though, Max is gone. Out of town with the rest of the family, visiting Susan’s mother. Billy is apparently no longer welcome at Mayfield family gatherings—since he got blackout drunk last christmas and punched one of Max’s uncles in the face. Billy laughs when he tells the story. Steve doesn’t get what’s funny about it. There are a lot of things about Billy’s relationships with his relatives that Steve doesn’t really understand. He’s pretty sure he prefers it that way. 

Billy says something about a party. Come by at eight. When Steve gets there, the Camaro is the only car in the driveway. Billy’s in the backyard, with a thirty pack of Rolling Rock and a blazing fire pit. He’s already stoned. Probably drunk. He tastes like beer when he pulls Steve into a messy kiss. 

“Tommy and Carol bailed like the bitches they are.” Billy flops into a plastic chair by the fire. Opens a new can of beer.

Steve sits down next to him. Steve wants to say, _it’s fine to just invite me over. You don’t have to pretend other people were coming._ But inviting Steve over to fuck would be gay. It’s not gay to just show up in Steve’s room, but it is gay to make finite plans to hang out more than a day in advance. They don’t go to sit down restaurants. Drive through is fine. Billy will suck Steve’s dick, but hell will freeze over before Billy ever takes it up the ass. It’s all a screwy calculus that Steve doesn’t bother trying to parse. He’s just along for the ride. 

The beers go fast. Billy’s got his boombox out, blasting some mixtape he made. There aren’t any neighbors close enough to complain about the racket when Billy starts singing along.

_“Cum on, feel the noize. Girls rock your boys. We get wild, wild, wild…”_

Billy actually has a nice voice. It’s deep and a little raspy. Steve’s drunk enough to stare. Billy’s so pretty in the flickering fire light. It’s a warm glow cast over his already warm, olive skin. His hair reminds Steve of beaches that he’s never been to. Steve would like to see the ocean sometime. He feels like he might learn something deeper about Billy if he did. 

After a while. Billy stands up. He stretches. He holds out his hand and waits long enough that Steve decides to take it. He lets Billy pull him to his feet. It’s Whitesnake, _Slide it In,_ playing over the tinny speaker as Billy puts his arm around Steve’s waist, and interlaces their fingers, and fucking waltzes with him.

It’s ridiculous. They’re both too fucked up, tripping over each other’s feet. Steve’s legs are too long, and he doesn’t know how to dance, and the beat isn’t right. Mostly, they’re just twirling around like idiots and laughing at each other. 

Billy leans in real close. He whispers in Steve’s ear. “I wanna piss on your face.”

“I’m gonna have a fucking stroke.” Steve giggles. Because god. Billy would. He would ruin an otherwise romantic moment in exactly this way.

“Can I?” Billy raises his eyebrows, his hand sliding down to squeeze Steve’s ass. 

“Since when do you ask? You just do shit.”

“I dunno. Thought it would be polite, or something. I’ve had _a lot_ of beer though. So like. Make up your mind quick.”

Steve sighs. Overdramatic. Like he’s not starting to get a chub. Like the idea of Billy just. Drenching his face isn’t kind of appealing. Christ. Steve’s brain must be wired wrong. It’s too easy for him to make connections between gross things and horny things. It takes no convincing at all.

Of course, Steve’s into this.

He pulls back a little. Smiles. Then he drops to his knees and just waits. Still fully clothed, because he’s an idiot. He also figures that’s maybe half the point. He wants to be _wet._ He wants to feel dirty and used afterwards. He kind of wants Billy to fuck him out here on the grass in his piss-soaked clothes. Because, why not? If he’s getting off on this already. Further escalation of a bad idea almost always intensifies his orgasms.

Billy groans. He fumbles with his belt buckle. Gets his half-hard cock out. Steve can’t decide whether or not he wants to go full-hog and open his mouth. Maybe not this time. He closes his eyes and waits. Feels the silky head of Billy’s cock brush against his lips.

And then it just. Happens.

Warm liquid, only a trickle at first. Hitting his mouth, then running down his chin. Then it’s a deluge. All across his face. In Steve’s hair. Across his forehead. His cheeks. It all trickles down his neck, onto his chest. Soaking into the fabric of his t-shirt. 

On the plus side: Billy’s consumed enough liquid that it doesn’t smell too strongly.

On the questionable side: _goddamn_ it just keeps going. 

By the time it tapers off, Steve’s kind of dizzy. Maybe because he was holding his breath. Maybe because he feels hot all over, and fucking humiliated, and he’s so, so hard. 

Billy pushes him back into the grass. Settles on top of him. The kisses are salty because of what’s on Steve’s lips. Maybe it’s the booze, or the fact that he’s head over heels, but making out on the lawn, wet and disgusting, is somehow still kind of romantic. He moans when Billy grinds against him. Billy shifts enough that he can get at Steve’s jeans, unzip them and get Steve’s dick out. 

He wraps a spit-slick palm around them both and thrusts. It’s feverish, and desperate, and they’re both too horny for it to last. Billy only makes it a couple of minutes before he’s coming on Steve’s ruined shirt. He jerks Steve off, murmuring dirty nothings in his ear. _C’mon, baby. Come for Daddy. You’re so pretty. Did so good._

Of course, Steve melts. He comes whimpering Billy's name. He's dazed and boneless, even after the pulses of pleasure taper off. He feels wrung out in that particular way that only happens after Billy does something real nasty. He feels like he’s floating above himself. 

Billy stands up and douses the fire. Steve just looks up at the billow of smoke clouding the starry sky. 

Somehow, Billy manages to get Steve on his feet. Strip off his dirty clothes. They leave their shirts, pants and underwear strewn across the lawn. They stumble inside, laughing about nothing. Billy drags them upstairs. Makes them both stand in the shower for a couple minutes because he doesn’t want the sheets to smell. 

They fall into Billy’s bed with wet hair. They kiss in the dark, with the curtains drawn. 

“You’re a real slut, Harrington.” Billy breathes, like it’s an admission of the deepest affection. 

“Yeah. And you’re a goddamn dirty bastard.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

“I mean. Probably. But I’ll take you how you are.”

“Faggot.”

“Asshole.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired.”

Billy kisses him again. On the lips. On the nose. On the forehead. They fall asleep tangled up in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Buckle' by We Are Scientists. I'm on [tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/). Let's make the problem worse.


End file.
